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Word Count: 937
The normally vivacious and blissful Dochyel stood very stiffly at the bottom of the old stairs that lead up to the attic Since a real sword was inaccessible to little Dochyel he held a large serving spoon stained with spaghetti in his right hand In his left hand he firmly held one of his mothers cast iron lids to her frying pan On his head he sported a metal spaghetti strainer He was prepared to face anything that was up there This situation all came about when little Dochyel had tried to beguile his parents and told them a cunning lie about who had really put the frog in his teachers britches When his parents caught him in this deception they told him because of his impudence he would not be allowed to go with them to eat out that night Dochyel hoped his parents would be fickle so he continued to tediously deem on why he should be able to go but this only augmented his parents anger His parents obstinately refused to hear his opinion So he was stuck in the large desolate house alone all night until his parents returned He looked up the dismal chipped stairs but just by the look of them he didnt want to go up because they were old and cracked and he was afraid the stairs would eat him before he reached the top Dochyel then heard the loathsome woeful moaning call like so many times before and knew he could not respite his task any longer He stepped on the first step it squeaked under his pressure as did all the other steps His foot made a small thud as he continued up the stairs It was like an anathema had been cast over the whole house He gripped his spoon and lid tighter until he could see the whites of his knuckles and his palms began to sweat He knew he had no business
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